Drinks Among Friends (March 3010) - [Ceolmund, Theodred]
Feb 28, 2018 14:30:42 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Feb 28, 2018 14:30:42 GMT -5
Ceolmund was not quite sure he understood about the crying, but as long as she were not hurt, he would be glad. If he could still her tears he would do it, though still the worry that there was something underlying which he could not mend was at hand. He pressed it away as Runa drew ever nearer.
“I know I said not now… But I think I’ve changed my mind. Let them think me a whore if they want…I want us.”
“You're no whore. Don't even say it of yourself,” Ceolmund muttered, turning his head to catch her lips. She had given him all the permission he needed now. “You're my strong, beautiful, lawful wife.”
–
It had taken some time for Ceolmund's drunken hands to free Runa from the dreadful ties of an unfamiliar dress, yet by the time he had pulled the garment from her, he had thrown it so hard it had knocked an axe from the wall and sent it clattering to the floor, a tumble of sharpened blade and pink linen.
Ceolmund's mead had set him to laughing, and he had hit his head hard upon the headboard which had stilled them for a few minutes in Runa's concern, yet the pain wore away, and he soon had put everything of himself that he still had control if into making his wife feel as nice as he could manage, and from the sound of things, he was proud of his own effort.
It was their last night in the house alone. The day had been tiring, and the evening moreso. After a short time the both of them had collapsed, though they had hardly parted. Runa was sprawled full body across Ceolmund in a way he was quite fond of, her head tucked against his chin. He had only to tilt his head, and her lips were ever present. She was mostly asleep; breathing long, slow breaths. He could feel every movement of her.
The man trailed his hands down along her back. She felt fine beneath them. He could have rolled her off onto her pillow, but he could think of no reason. She was so comfortable and warm in her place. He rubbed her haunches, and smiled to himself. Yet, there was one thing missing. Her skin was against him and he could very well not say goodnight to the baby this way, as he had every night from the day he had returned home and learned of it's presence.
Ceolmund slid a hand to Runa's waist, and nudged it between their bodies. Yes, the baby was quite warm now. He chuckled to himself at the thought; his eyelids heavy with mead. His hand pressed between their abdomens so close together, and he brushed Runa with his thumb lightly. It would have to do. He knew their child would forgive him this one night. Though something… something was different.
“Runa,” he muttered, concerned at first. He knew she was awake, for her breathing had changed, though his mind roving soon came to easier conclusions. He twisted his palm and rubbed his fingertips across a knot he could feel pressing into his hand. “Runa… what's… what's that. The bump here… can you feel it? Is it...”
“I know I said not now… But I think I’ve changed my mind. Let them think me a whore if they want…I want us.”
“You're no whore. Don't even say it of yourself,” Ceolmund muttered, turning his head to catch her lips. She had given him all the permission he needed now. “You're my strong, beautiful, lawful wife.”
–
It had taken some time for Ceolmund's drunken hands to free Runa from the dreadful ties of an unfamiliar dress, yet by the time he had pulled the garment from her, he had thrown it so hard it had knocked an axe from the wall and sent it clattering to the floor, a tumble of sharpened blade and pink linen.
Ceolmund's mead had set him to laughing, and he had hit his head hard upon the headboard which had stilled them for a few minutes in Runa's concern, yet the pain wore away, and he soon had put everything of himself that he still had control if into making his wife feel as nice as he could manage, and from the sound of things, he was proud of his own effort.
It was their last night in the house alone. The day had been tiring, and the evening moreso. After a short time the both of them had collapsed, though they had hardly parted. Runa was sprawled full body across Ceolmund in a way he was quite fond of, her head tucked against his chin. He had only to tilt his head, and her lips were ever present. She was mostly asleep; breathing long, slow breaths. He could feel every movement of her.
The man trailed his hands down along her back. She felt fine beneath them. He could have rolled her off onto her pillow, but he could think of no reason. She was so comfortable and warm in her place. He rubbed her haunches, and smiled to himself. Yet, there was one thing missing. Her skin was against him and he could very well not say goodnight to the baby this way, as he had every night from the day he had returned home and learned of it's presence.
Ceolmund slid a hand to Runa's waist, and nudged it between their bodies. Yes, the baby was quite warm now. He chuckled to himself at the thought; his eyelids heavy with mead. His hand pressed between their abdomens so close together, and he brushed Runa with his thumb lightly. It would have to do. He knew their child would forgive him this one night. Though something… something was different.
“Runa,” he muttered, concerned at first. He knew she was awake, for her breathing had changed, though his mind roving soon came to easier conclusions. He twisted his palm and rubbed his fingertips across a knot he could feel pressing into his hand. “Runa… what's… what's that. The bump here… can you feel it? Is it...”